Emotional Context
by hanjo
Summary: Sherlock is dealing with the aftermath of the Final Problem. Molly Hooper goes to see if he is alright. (I'm terrible with summaries) "Look what you did to her. Look what you did to yourself. All of those complicated little emotions, I've lost count. Emotional context, Sherlock."


Sherlock Holmes woke with a jolt as he felt the sweat drip from his forehead. Visions of cages, death, screaming, and deep waters faded from his mind. He turned his head and looked at the bedside table of John's guest room. It was almost noon. He had slept for twelve hours. He had never done that before in his life. Calming his breathing Sherlock reluctantly got out of bed. He wrapped his robe around himself and shuffled downstairs to the kitchen.

221B was still properly burnt up from the explosion. John insisted that Sherlock stay with him and Rosie until they had a chance to clean it up. Sherlock was grateful but he missed his flat very much. He checked his mobile, answering one text from John and one from Mycroft as he moved to the sitting room. John had gone out with Rosie, letting Sherlock know the he was bringing back food. Sitting on the coffee table Mrs. Hudson had left a fresh pot of tea. John insisted that Mrs. Hudson stay with them as well. She denied his kind request for her flat was still intact, but she still seemed to check up on them every twenty minutes. The steam seeped from the pot. She must have just been here, replacing the tea every so often so it would be ready when Sherlock finally woke. Uncharastically Mrs. Hudson didn't say much to him when he arrived at John's home once he was done dealing with the aftermath. She merely wrapped him in a hug, told him she was sorry, and insisted that he get to bed straight away. He sat on the sofa and fixed himself a cup. Every muscle in his body ached.

It had been thirty-two hours since Euros' experiment. Everything afterwards had been a blur. Sherlock took a sip of tea. There was still much for him to do. A gentle knock at the door brought Sherlock back from his thoughts. He groaned as he pushed himself up, putting his teacup on the table. He opened the door to find Molly Hooper standing there. She was wearing a large dark blue striped sweater and jeans with red trainers. She was wrapped in a large coat and her hair was in a high ponytail. There were dark, puffy circles under her eyes.

"Molly," Sherlock greeted her with a small smile.

"Hi Sherlock," she answered. "I'm so sorry, were you resting?"

"No, no I just woke up. Come in," Sherlock gestured inside as he opened the door.

"Thank you," Molly said as she entered the house. They walked silently to the sitting room. She sat on the couch as he grabbed his cup and sat on the loveseat opposite her.

"Would you like some tea," he offered. Molly shook her head, glancing at the floor.

"Molly, I was going to come and see you. To explain."

"John already told me everything. Everything that happened with Euros." She frowned, shaking her head. "Sherlock, I'm so sorry." Sherlock gave her a small smile.

"Are you alright," she asked. Sherlock scoffed.

"After everything you've been through you're asking me if I'm alright," he asked.

"Of course," Molly answered sincerely. "I'm worried about you."

"Of course you are," Sherlock smiled. "Mycroft said your flat was clean."

"Yes," Molly nodded. "He had some men get rid of the cameras and check for any explosives. There weren't any."

"Good."

"You didn't answer my question." She tilted her head at him. "How are you?" Sherlock looked down at his tea.

"Honestly, I'm not entirely sure." Molly nodded, knowingly.

"How are you," he asked, looking up at her.

"I'm fine," she answered, shrugging her shoulders.

"I never meant to hurt you, Molly."

"You didn't." She shook her head. "Euros forced you. You were trying to save my life."

"I didn't just mean the phone call." He looked at her with sad eyes. Molly thought she saw pity in them and turned away, hiding the tears the suddenly came up.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For saving my life." Molly heard the clang of the tea cup as Sherlock put it on the table. He slowly stood from his chair. She felt the couch sink down and Sherlock sat next to her. She continued to stare at her hands in her lap.

"You have to know, Molly. How much you mean to me," he whispered. Molly shook her head.

"Don't do that," she whispered, feeling a tear escape from her eye. It slowly dripped down her cheek. "I've already made a complete fool of myself."

"You haven't, Molly. You haven't."

Molly quickly wiped the tear away and scooted further away from him on the couch. Sherlock watched as Molly took in a deep breath and turned her head away from him. Euros' words echoed inside of his mind.

" _Look what you did to her._

 _Look what you did to yourself._

 _All of those complicated little emotions, I've lost count._

 _Emotional context, Sherlock."_

"Why me," Molly asked. She turned to face him, her face expressionless. "If Euros was torturing you why did she use me?" Sherlock took in a deep breath.

"Because." He paused. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking. "Because Euros was trying to show me how emotionally driven I really am. She knew how much it would hurt me to watch you hurt after everything we have been through. She was trying to show me how my emotions ultimately destroy me." Molly looked over at him, tears brimming in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry she did that to you," she whispered. "You know that's not true right?" Sherlock smiled.

"You, Molly Hooper, have always counted. You have always seen me. You see me, Molly. You know me in a way no one else does. As John once said, you see past all my bullshit." Molly laughed, looking into his eyes. Sherlock smiled down at her.

"When I said those words to you, Molly. I came to realize that they were true." His voice was so soft, so vulnerable. Molly's eyes widened as she gazed at him, searching his face for any indication that what he was saying was true.

"I had always thought that sentiment was…"

"A chemical defect found on the losing side," Molly finished for him. Sherlock laughed.

"Right. But John taught me that sentiment just makes me human, that I underestimated it." Molly nodded understandingly. Sherlock tilted his head at her, looking into her eyes, He slowly took her hand in his.

"I do love you, Molly Hooper." Molly smiled.

"I love you too, Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock's grin widened. His eyes flickered down to Molly's lips. Ever so slowly he leaned in. Their lips pressed together. It was the softest, gentlest, most powerful kiss Molly Hooper had ever experienced in her life. She felt a tear drip off of Sherlock's chin drop onto their joined hands. She squeezed his hand as they parted. They pressed their foreheads together, listening to each other's deep breathing.

"What do you need?" Molly whispered, looking into his eyes. Sherlock gave her a familiar smile.

"You," he whispered back.


End file.
